


sometimes the only way to catch your breath is to lose it completely

by koroshiyas (lucitae)



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/koroshiyas
Summary: “are you undressing me with your eyes?” minhyun asks with amusement so muted in his tone that if seongwoo wasn’t paying attention, he would have missed it. but he always does. knows that it is the weariness from carrying the weight of the world that covers minhyun’s light.“i’ve been doing that since the entranceway,” seongwoo replies easily, “but thanks for noticing.”





	sometimes the only way to catch your breath is to lose it completely

“are you undressing me with your eyes?” minhyun asks with amusement so muted in his tone that if seongwoo wasn’t paying attention, he would have missed it. but he always does. knows that it is the weariness from carrying the weight of the world that covers minhyun’s light.

“i’ve been doing that since the entranceway,” seongwoo replies easily as he closes the distance between them: reaching for minhyun and allowing his knuckles to graze the curve of his cheek. minhyun leans into the touch, impassiveness melting, eyes softening at the corners. lips curl into a semblance of a smile, into a quarter of what seongwoo wears upon his lips, tension seeping from his shoulders as he begins to realize that he is home. the week is done with. whatever caused minhyun to punch in the code a little harder at the front door a non issue until much, _much_ later.

here lies understanding.

here is where divulgence only comes when you want it to.

here is where seongwoo and minhyun can be themselves.

and seongwoo knows minhyun knows as much so he lets both hands smooth the lapels of minhyun’s blazer, letting his voice dip into a conversational tone and his words lull minhyun into relaxation.

“i watch how you dress yourself each morning, through half lidded eyes,” smile never once faltering, eyes never leaving minhyun’s as he continues, “how you meticulously plan out your outfit the night before.” the blazer slides off broad shoulders and falls to the floor. “spend minutes tying and retying your tie in the mirror, just so the knot would fit snugly against, irregardless of your personal comfort.” fingers slip into the knot, tugging it loose. “wrestle the wrinkles into submission during the weekends with an iron in hand.” there’s the harsh whisper of the necktie being slid out from under the collar as seongwoo frees it in one motion. “and slip each piece on — carefully — as if to not disturb the lines you’ve created until it is all assembled and you are ready to go to war.” each word is punctuated by a button of the shirt being undone and ends with minhyun shrugging it off until it joins the rest of its brethren on the floor.

“how it means the most to me,” seongwoo says, allowing his voice to lower in register as he allows his fingers to identify the scatter of moles — especially the one they share as if someone had planned for this since the day they were born — trace the junction where fading mark from last week is barely identifiable, “that you choose to return to me each and every night.” seongwoo bites back the grin that threatens to form when minhyun shivers: nails ghosting against the clavicle, dragging across pale skin, and brushing against pert buds. “and allow me to take off your armor,” seongwoo says as he lets his hand rest against minhyun’s chest, where he can feel the contraction of the heart.

he watches the realization settle into minhyun’s eyes. the quick flicker to the physical manifestation and then the gently part of lips to form a small _o_ as the gaze returns to the hand over his heart.

seongwoo proffers a smile before he falls to his knees and wonders, for a fraction of a second, what his parents would say if they saw him now. and how much would they understand if he insisted he was at the mercy of love?

his fingers are splayed against the plane of minhyun’s stomach, watching how the muscles tense in anticipation as they circle around and dig into minhyun’s hips to bring him closer. seongwoo presses his lips against the zipper of minhyun’s trouser in reverence. the smile threatening to split and reach his ears as he notices the dust of red creeps beyond cheeks. it’s cute. could be cuter. so seongwoo takes his time unbuckling minhyun’s belt, sliding it out from where it is held, and allowing it to clank against the ground loudly, with finality. the tips of minhyun’s ears are a shade of red ; seongwoo doesn’t want to stop there.

the clasp becomes unhinged and seongwoo’s almost tempted to finish the unzipping with his teeth but decides against it. there’s a touch of sanctimony tonight — maybe from the way minhyun holds in his breath, maybe from the way seongwoo’s limbs feel weak from all the anticipation of what minhyun could look like down the line, maybe its from the way light spills upon the two of them. whatever it is, seongwoo continues as is. one hand holding minhyun steady, the other removing barriers a teeth at a time. and seongwoo allows it to be the only noise in the room for a while.

the hand that holds minhyun steady slides down with the other in a series of alternating moments: by the navel, right above the waist band, against the fabric of the trousers, outlining minhyun’s cock and stays there. the two flaps hang there, revealing the grey of minhyun’s briefs as seongwoo lazily traces the shape of minhyun’s cock with his eyes. fingers flit back to skim against the flesh above minhyun’s waistband, breath ghosting over minhyun’s briefs from where he’s already half hard, a gesture as if to implicate seongwoo’s willingness to take minhyun into his mouth.

he waits for minhyun’s breath to hitch. waits for minhyun’s fingers to thread through his hair and gently knead his scalp the way he knows seongwoo has taken a liking to. the crown is a symbol for many things and, here, it means he’s placed in hands he trusts more than his own.

seongwoo fingers dig into the flesh above minhyun’s hips. “what do you want?” he asks as he glances up and locks minhyun’s gaze with his own.

and minhyun, in a daze, just exhales “whatever you want.”

and seongwoo never touches minhyun or moves closer, lets the seconds slip by as he continues to just look up with sincerity when he finally voices: “i want to take care of you.”

minhyun flushes again, head ducking out of habit, as eyes crinkle in the corner. seongwoo likes to believe it a sign of happiness. so he smiles against the head of minhyun’s cock, still clothed, leaving behind a chaste kiss as he maintains eye contact.

the red threatens to grow. seongwoo wonders in how many ways and how many places can minhyun be painted in the same color and toys with the idea as he guides minhyun towards the bed. and minhyun lets him. allows seongwoo’s hand to stay where they are against his elbow. allows seongwoo to fit their lips against each other in a way that steals all of minhyun’s breath away. allows seongwoo, in those moments of vulnerability where minhyun lets himself go, to steer him until he meets the bed and fall knowing seongwoo would never let it hurt him. allows seongwoo’s hand to cup the back of his head in an act of protection, to leave and trace the slope of his shoulders and the length of his sides, to fumble against the trousers as he coaxes minhyun to lift his hips so that they can slide off and be gone.

he can’t help it when a laugh slips past his lips: airy and light. can’t help it when another one bubbles out from the way seongwoo looks at him as if he, too, feels that buzz that curls through minhyun. nor can he help the smile that grows wide at the edges from how seongwoo swings a leg over minhyun’s hips and straddles him, pressing a kiss to his lips at the end of it all.

when he parts, minhyun hears the soft whine that elicits from his own lips. eyes fluttering open as he takes in the sight of seongwoo with lips swollen, ridding the remnants of sloppiness with a quick wipe of the forearm, in the midst of getting rid of his own shirt. minhyun’s eyes fall on the expanse of skin the becomes exposed with each button that becomes undone. there’s far too many in his opinion. it’s taking far too long. but he also gets to notice the details. his favorite part. the clusters of stars, group of threes, sprinkled upon his cheek, chest, and neck. how they look like when he flexes, watching skin stretch as seongwoo works himself out of his pants and briefs in a hurry, how they flash in and out of sight as he leans over to acquire the lube from the drawer. how he even looks charming like this: warming the lube between his fingers, flashing minhyun a mischevious smile, the three dots adorning his cheeks an unmistakable trait.

 “you know,” seongwoo says, sounding as breathless as minhyun feels, as he starts to work himself open, “my mother used to say that this was an act of god.” the hand that has become slick with lube is balanced against minhyun’s stomach, the other reaches to rub his neck where the constellation lies as if to get rid of the sweat that has formed there. “that it was a blessing.” the hands switch back but he has already left a mess on minhyun’s abdomen. “it was a gift to me,” a chuckle slips past his lips as he shakes his head, “much like i was a gift to them.” his second finger pushes in without much resistance. “i never believed in it,” his voice becomes hushed as he takes in a third finger and the way minhyun looks at him — like he’s something worth loving — and something in him threatens to break, “until i met you.”

the lube trickles down his thighs and drips onto minhyun in a way that makes minhyun groan from both the presence and absence of contact. seongwoo bites the insides of his lips as he feels minhyun roll his hips upwards. seongwoo allows his knees to dig into minhyun’s side to remind him of patience. to trust seongwoo a little more. because seongwoo might not have enough stamina to go a few extra rounds but it doesn’t mean he can’t make it up in other ways: riling minhyun up enough that when seongwoo wanes minhyun can take over and fuck him into the sheets — however minhyun wants.

but for now:

“entrust yourself to me,” seongwoo says trying to keep the way his thighs tremble out of his voice as he lines minhyun with his hole. he waits for the small sound of acknowledgement before he allows himself to sink, inch by inch, until he bottoms out.

minhyun groans seongwoo’s name in broken syllables.

“i haven’t even started yet,” seongwoo teases until a gasp is punched out of him by one of minhyun’s thrusts. minhyun’s pupils are blown, but the curl of his lips gives him away. seongwoo clicks his tongue in reply, lifting his hips until minhyun slips out until his crown and sinking back down slowly.

he watches the way minhyun colors through half lidded eyes, feels the way he tenses and attempts to buck, feels the fingers that dig into his sides — knowing they will leave behind prints of their own and relishes in the way they attempt to carve a place out of him. it’s such a strange feeling, seongwoo finds himself thinking, the way minhyun pulses in and around him — the way he’ll never get used to it no matter how many times they do it, no matter who finds himself in his position. to swallow, to be swallowed ; two sides of the same coin.

he feels feverish. laughs when his words are as incoherent as he feels with each filthy roll of his hips. minhyun meets him in the middle. seongwoo’s name always on the tip of his tongue. seongwoo’s head lulls forward, convinced they should canonize this pronunciation, makes it known with a grin. it’s met with a half hearted complaint and minhyun lifting himself to shut him up properly.

seongwoo doesn’t know the exact moment his legs give way because minhyun is there to take over when it does: easing them into their positions, seongwoo’s back safely against the mattress and the soon to be ruined sheets, lining himself back up before filling up seongwoo again. seongwoo holds onto minhyun by his shoulders, legs slung around his waist, keeping him close — trying to keep him closer, trying to make him stay. minhyun drives into seongwoo relentlessly, grinding against his prostate, planting a mark that mirrored minhyun’s from last week in a way that makes seongwoo whimper. but here he’s not ashamed. here there is no judgement. just acceptance. and seongwoo allows himself to be engulfed.

a meteor is just space debris. humans give it a name, make it pretty, point it out in the night sky and attaches myths to it so it has meaning. _there’s beauty in falling_ , they say about stars, about petals, about snow and then they proceed to trample over all they once thought beautiful. rarely is it given a place to rest.

the meteor makes a home out of earth ; seongwoo and minhyun make a home out of each other.

when minhyun’s hip stutter at a haphazard pace and his name tumbles from seongwoo’s tongue like a repeated prayer : they tie each other at the finish line.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this shouldn't even be rated e lmao. i can't write pwps what am i even thinking. this is a disgrace to the pwp tag. there's sweet aftercare somewhere and some cuddling but i'm too lazy to write it.
> 
> this is what happens when you read and reread park jiyeon's momentum and pontificate what it is to trust. cry over misha & gian for the hundredth time and wonder what an equal relationship would look like.
> 
> the title was taken from tyler knott gregson's chasers of light.
> 
> thanks to my dear anon who recced two fics over the past two days that somehow inadvertently inspired this.
> 
> even more grateful for my dear kouhai for whom, without, no words would ever be produced. nothing would be published with confidence.
> 
> also while i was writing sewoon's [close over](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gw5Qg-69nl8) started playing in my head. for some weird reason sad songs play when i'm writing smut . __ .


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